Anora's Defense
by mutive
Summary: Alistair has a few questions for Anora before he feels that he can attempt to begin any kind of marriage with her.


Anora was sitting in the corner, reading, when Alistair entered the room. She deliberately closed the book as the door opened, then rose.

"I suppose that we would both prefer that this is over quickly," she said. She left unsaid "so that you can get back to her." Her voice was incredibly even, although her hands shook slightly as she reached to her back to unlace her corset.

"Uh, ah, that is..." Alistair said. And then, "There is no her."

"No Mistress Amell?" Anora stopped worrying the knot. "What do you mean? I had thought. I mean, we had agreed." And then, "I saw how you looked at her."

"I know." Alistair said. "It's been remarked on."

"Then what happened?" Finally Anora's face showed some sign of genuine emotion. Curiosity, at least, was better than the studied blankness she had presented.

"When she let Loghain become a Grey Warden, I ended it."

"Oh?" the mask came down again. Of course. Nothing like being reminded that your husband had ended his affair with the love of his life because she had spared the life of his wife's father.

"It's not like that," Alistair said. "I mean, it was at first. But I've done a lot of thinking of late." He sat down on the bed. "It's easy to think only about your own perspective of things."

"It is," Anora said. "Although it's dangerous for a ruler to be so self centered."

"Yes, I suppose that's it." Alistair said. He rose. Looked at the floor. "I think it's obvious enough that I hated Loghain. Still do, to be perfectly frank. It's not easy to forgive someone for trying to kill you. But at the same time, I can see her point."

"Mistress Amell's?"

"Yes, hers. The Grey Wardens only had three remaining members. Loghain was a great warrior. A great general, too, according to all the old stories. Riordan thought that he would be a good addition to our order. And if he was one of us, he couldn't try to kill us. Maker's Breath, he couldn't really do much after the Landsmeet voted against him, other than fight against the Blight. And it made political sense. Make Loghain fight the problem he'd caused, rather than waste his life in vengeance."

"That is what I argued for," Anora said. And then, "What changed your mind?"

"I've done a lot of thinking." Alistair drew a breath. "I still don't forgive Loghain. I don't think that I can, really. Not entirely, anyway. But I was stupid to run off like that. It was childish, irresponsible. I can't imagine that the Landsmeet thought that I was a very suitable king after that."

"Perhaps not," Anora said. He could see a bit of a smile playing at the edges of her lips. "But they tolerated far worse from Cailan."

"Probably true. But I'd like to be a better king."

"This is a good thing."

"Yes," Alistair said. "And I am a Grey Warden, king or no. I should have been there to stop the Blight. I abandoned that duty to everyone else. And yes, to be honest, it hurts. Loghain is the great hero, who sacrificed himself to save Ferelden. And what was I doing at the time? Pouting in my room."

"The role of a king is not to march in the front of an army," Anora said. "It is to rule. Which usually means leaving the heroism to those who are more expendable."

"Probably true," Alistair said. "But that doesn't mean that at times I hear his name mentioned and wish that it had been me."

"Even though you'd be dead?"

"Even though."

There were several seconds of silence, while both studied the floor boards. Then, "If that is true," Anora said. "Why didn't you just apologize to Mistress Amell? I'm sure she would forgive you."

"Perhaps," Alistair said. "Perhaps not."

"It seems odd that you don't think that it is worth the try," Anora said.

Alistair smiled, "Who's side are you on?"

Anora actually laughed. Well, not a true laugh, but Alistair could tell that she was doing everything she could to not laugh out loud, and was almost certain that he heard something approaching a giggle escape her throat. "Neither," she said. "I'd far prefer to not have a husband who takes advantage of every serving maid in the castle. But at the same time, it puzzles me."

"Yes, well, I suppose it does. But as I said, I did quite a bit of thinking."

"And?"

"And the whole situation didn't seem fair. Yes, I'm sure that you and...Mistress Amell...did discuss it and came to some kind of agreement. But that doesn't make things right."

"No," Anora said. "It does not. But this is a political marriage. Neither of us entered into it because we were madly in love. Some indiscretions are expected, perhaps. At least on the part of the king. I've learned to...accept."

"This is true," Alistair said. "Well, at least as far as the political bit. And it will always have been made for that reason. This does not mean that it cannot be more. I mean, that is, if you want..."

Anora looked at him with a look he couldn't quite figure out. "I'm not quite sure what I want," she said. "But I would certainly prefer a situation where I easily tolerated your company."

"Ah, damned with faint praise," Alistair said.

"I guess I'm just surprised that you'd do this for me."

"Suspicious, are you? Perhaps it will put your heart at ease to know that it wasn't just for you."

"At least you're being honest."

"I try. Well, at least when I can't find a story that's more interesting than the truth."  
"You do have to admit that this whole story so far is better than what you'd find in almost any novel."

"Just so!"

"So what advantages did you see for yourself and Mistress Amell in all of this?" Anora asked.

"Well," Alistair said. "Honestly, I'm not sure that her heart was ever really in being in Denerim. She wanted to rebuild the tower. I couldn't really go with her and be a good king. So either she had to abandon her dream, or I had to abandon my duty. Neither was a good situation." He sighed. "Just the longer I thought about how things would work out even did I apologize, the bigger an ass I seemed in all of it. What was I supposed to do? Tell her, 'oh, yes, I'm sorry for abandoning you when you needed me the most. And if you happen to forgive me, why don't you give up your dreams to live your life in the shadows as my mistress.' It seemed cruel to her."

"Even if she accepted?"

"Even so," Alistair said. "And I've already failed the kingdom once. I don't want to do it again because I spend half my time fooling around with a woman I'm not even supposed to be with, while ignoring my wife. Not to mention, no matter how OK you pretend to be with this situation, I can't imagine that it wouldn't affect things somewhat. Anora, I don't love you now. Honestly, I may never love you, or you me. But I respect you. You've ruled this kingdom for years. And not just ruled it, but ruled well, at least if I'm to trust what I hear from near everyone. I could learn a lot from you, provided you're willing to teach me. And it seems more likely that you'll try if I'm doing my best to be a good king and husband."

"The two don't necessarily go together," Anora said.

"I'm not sure whether I respect or fear your pragmatism," Alistair said. "But still, no matter how logical you pretend to be, I can't help but think that you're bound to like me a bit better if I at least try to be kind to you."

"I do appreciate it," Anora said. She sat on the bed next to him, her hands clasped together, the fingers intertwining. "Really I do." And then, "I probably should try slightly harder as well. At least pretend to laugh at your jokes, and all."

"They're so bad that you have to _pretend _to laugh?"

She laughed this time, for real. "They're not bad at all," she said. "Well, other than the puns. But I've been under a lot of stress lately. I guess I haven't felt like laughing much lately."

"That bad?"

"Even worse," She sighed. "So what now?"

"We get to know each other, I guess. Try to become friends."

"I could handle that," she said. "I never really had a lot of friends."

"What, a beautiful girl like you? I'd have thought that you'd have to fight them off with a stick."

"Ah, well, the nobility thought that I was acting above my station. My parents were peasants, after all, as am I, technically. And the peasants all thought that I was stuck up before they met me. And as you've pointed out, I'm not exactly warm and lovable."

"I'm sure that it's just a matter of getting a thicker blanket."

The look she shot him was one that implied that he was absolutely insane. "Um...sure."

There was a moment of silence before Alistair drew a breath and said, "There is one thing I'd like to get clear. Then we can return to the whole 'trying to like each other thing'."

"What?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Just why. The whole Landsmeet. I heard from some of the others."

"Ah, yes," Anora stared intently at the floor boards. "Well, I had to, you know. Surely you can understand. The country supported my father. He was the great hero. If he believed that Grey Wardens were not truly needed to stop the Blight, who was to say otherwise? Certainly, not I. So he needed to be stopped. I was, perhaps, the only one who could do it. So I did it. And there it is."

"But why the lies? I mean, he didn't really intend to kill you, did he?"

"No," Anora said. "He was mistaken. But not mad. Not possessed. He did lock me up like a six year old girl to stop me from trying to lead a movement against him. Or if he didn't, he at least let Arl Howe do it. But the room was quite nice, and I have no doubt that he truly meant to let me out again once the Landsmeet was over and any problems that I could cause were neatly whisked away. Then I'd go right back to sit on the throne, and everything would be just like it had been before."

"You were that upset, were you?" Alistair asked, trying to smile. Somehow this all seemed easier if it could be taken as some kind of cosmic farce.

"Absolutely furious. But not enough to betray him, no. Not over being locked in a room."

"Then why the lies?"

Anora drew a deep breath. "Let's pretend that I went to the nobles at the Landsmeet and told them 'My father is terribly mistaken about the threat of both the Orleasians and the Blight. The Blight is destroying the south of the country, and if it is not stopped soon, it may destroy all of Ferelden. Meanwhile, he's trying to kill the last of our Grey Wardens, which I am almost convinced are necessary to stop the Blight. Please remove him from power for a little and put someone else in charge of his armies so that we can deal with the real problem.' If I said that, what do you think would happen?"

"It seems like a good argument to me."

"I made it many times," Anora said. "To many people. But most reminded me that I was a woman. I had never marched at the front of an army, never commanded one. Certainly, I made very good decisions when it came to trade agreements and treaties, but why did I think that I knew more about military threats than a great general? The argument was not working. It took something more dramatic to convince the Landsmeet that my father's delusions were truly a threat to Ferelden. And I was afraid that even the other evidence – the poisoning of Arl Eamon, selling elves into slavery, letting Howe torture people, etc. would be thrown out. There are explanations for all, after all. Most could be pinned on Howe; Eamon was leading a rebellion, the elves were doomed anyway, et cetera. I needed to tell them something that would convince them that my father really was acting against the good of the country. Sure, it wasn't exactly true that he was planning on killing me. But it did have a nice dramatic effect, and convinced everyone that he must have gone mad to want to kill his own daughter."

"That seems rather ruthless," Alistair said.

"And deceitful. Yes. But I honestly tried everything else I could think of. It was a rather last ditch attempt," Anora said. "If I could have just sat down with him over tea and worked the whole thing out, trust me, I would have done so. I tried so on many occasions. It wasn't enough. So I lied. If you intend to rule, you'll probably have to accustom yourself to being less than honest at all times."

"So fair enough. You lie to the Landsmeet. But why to us?"

"If I came to you and said, 'yes, my father is your sworn enemy, but I want to help you if you'll just let me out of this room and offer to support me', would you have done it."

"I'm not sure."

"And if even now you're not, how was I supposed to be sure you were? I'd met you once, maybe. When you were still a child, and I wasn't much older. I decided that it was safer to lie and hope that you were willing to believe that the enemy of your enemy was your friend."

"It did help when I heard that you asked Eamon to free us," Alistair said. "I think that we trusted you a little then, at least."

"I'm glad that it had the intended effect," Anora said. "And to be honest, I was rather impressed. Particularly when you surrendered yourselves rather than allow me to be captured. I hadn't expected that."

"Glad to know that I was of service," Alistair said.

Anora smiled. And actually seemed to relax. For perhaps the first time, she slumped ever so slightly.

"So most of this makes sense. Well, provided that you're not lying again."

"I'm not too terrible," Anora said. "If you'd like, I'll promise to never lie to you unless the future of the kingdom is at stake."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I don't really know that if, in ten years, I ask you if you can tell that I've gained weight, you explain precisely how unattractive you find my inability to fit into my old armor actually is."

"We'll hope it doesn't come to that," she said. A hint of a smile played on her features. "And father never gained weight or wasn't able to fit into his armor."

"Oh, so I'm going to be hearing this for the rest of my life, will I?"

"Would you prefer me to talk about Cailan?" A raised eyebrow there. Suddenly, Alistair rather wondered if he wouldn't prefer being compared to Cailan. At least he was not the great hero who'd save the world from the Blight. In comparison, he'd be easier to live up to.

"Sure," Alistair said. "As long as it's made clear that I'm far more handsome, witty, and impossibly better in bed."

"I'll keep that in mind," Anora said. He could swear that she was laughing at him, although her face remained perfectly composed. "Although for the last, well...I'll need testing to be sure." And then, "I can't believe that made you blush."

"Just shut up."

Anora actually smiled there, and giggled. It was peculiar, to see her face change from that of the studied ruler to something that almost belonged on a young girl.

"Does that answer your questions, then?" she asked, after a pause. "Or did you have more?"

"Not really. Or maybe. I guess I'm just still curious as to why. I guess I can understand that you decided the only way to get rid of Loghain was to lie. But why did you want to get rid of him so badly? Especially as he would have kept you as queen. Without even the whole need to take on a pesky husband."

"You're not that bad."

"Now this is why I don't want you to promise to never lie."

"It's not entirely a lie," Anora said. "And we'll see. I may come to like you yet."

"I'll hope so. It will make breakfasts far less awkward."

At that she did smile, her eyes crinkling slightly. "Fair enough. And to answer your question. Yes. I knew that my father intended to keep me as queen. I also knew that by siding with the Grey Wardens that there were many possible negative outcomes for me. To be honest, almost the best I could hope for is what did happen – that you allowed my father to die a hero, that I be kept on as someone's wife. I did not think it unlikely that my father would be executed as a traitor, and that I would be killed immediately after as the daughter of a traitor. Such things happen in politics."

"Then why?"

"Duty," Anora said. "I am queen. Do I grieve over the loss of my father? Of course. I'm not a monster. Did I fear the loss of my own life? Of course. I'm not mad. But do I grieve any more than the thousands of women in the south who've lost their fathers or husbands or brothers? To be honest, probably not. And even if I grieve more than any one does singly, I find it hard to imagine that I grieve more than the collective grief of thousands of women. Similarly, did I fear for my own life? Well, yes. But is my own life so much more valuable than those of the hundreds of women dragged underground by the darkspawn for Maker knows what purpose? No. I do not and cannot. To pretend more is vanity. And if my life is worth more, it is only because I am Queen, and therefore able to make the decisions that will end wars and allow thousands more to live their lives peacefully. If by sacrificing the life of myself and my father, I ensure a lasting peace...well, I might not be happy about the outcome, but so be it."

"That sounds like a hard choice."

"It is," Anora said. "And it was. But it was the right choice. And as Queen, I do not have the luxury of making a choice that I personally find to be appealing. I must do what is best for my people, no matter how it affects me. This is what a ruler must do. It's not all pretty dresses and parties, you know."

"I'm beginning to remember why I didn't want to be king."

"You could always abdicate," Anora said. She smiled, although he could tell that she was trying not to. "I absolutely promise that I won't have you killed."

"You are joking, aren't you?"

"A little," she said. "The worse I'd do is have you maimed. Cross my heart and all that."

"Good," Alistair said. "Although now that I've started this whole king thing, I think that I ought to see it through." He walked over to where she was sitting and took her hand. She let him hold it and he pulled her up. "It can't be that hard, can it?"

"Probably no harder than slaying darkspawn," Anora said. "Although, then again, the mabari managed to do that, and I'm not sure that I'd trust him as king..."

"Just so you know," Alistair said. "If you tell me that I'm stupider than the dog, I'm getting a divorce. No matter how well I otherwise may love you."

"Fair enough."


End file.
